


Crown of Ashes, Crown of Roses

by Ravenesta



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Fluff, M/M, bois with flower crowns, just hear me out here, much less serious than the title suggests??, this is just ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 13:10:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4021060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenesta/pseuds/Ravenesta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Armin found out a long time ago that Eren is much more gentle than he seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crown of Ashes, Crown of Roses

They were only five the first time, Eren’s tiny, pudgy fingers wrapped tightly around Armin’s wrist as he led the smaller boy out into the fields past the gate of Shiganshina, the wide, rolling hills completely covered in lush green grass and patches of colourful wildflowers. The two had run around, giggling and chasing each other until they fell down in a tangle of tiny limbs in the grass. While Eren lay back, arms behind his head and grinning up at the sky, Armin had glanced around until he found a small bed of vibrant red flowers, swaying gently in the breeze.

He sat beside Eren with crossed legs, the plucked flowers in his lap. With nimble fingers and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, he slowly began to weave the stems of the flowers together, not looking up even when Eren began to peer curiously up at him. “Arm.” Eren poked him in the shoulder. “Arm. What’re ya doin’?”

Armin didn’t respond, simply offering a small smile at Eren’s nickname. Finally, he held up his prize with an accomplished grin. Eren, by this point, had propped himself up on his elbows, making it easy for Armin to place the ring of flowers on his friend’s mop of hair. “There! It’s a flower crown, my mom taught me how to make them!” He exclaimed. Eren’s expression was somewhere between childish awe and the usual bubbling passion that seemed exclusive to Eren. “Whoah, Armin, that’s really cool! Can you teach me how to make one?”

Hours later, Grisha finds them out in the fields, giggling and covered head to toe in links of wildflowers.

The second time, they are eleven and working in the landfill, and things have changed more than Armin could have ever imagined. Eren and Mikasa are mourning Carla and Armin is feeling the loss of his grandfather like a physical blow more painful than any the bullies in Shiganshina could deal out. They are set to work in the fields all day, and Armin barely sees his two best friends anymore, but when he does, they are all too exhausted to offer more than a wave or a weak smile. Eren is perpetually angry and unapproachable, seemingly only mollified by Mikasa’s soothing words, and Armin begins to feel the drifting of his friend as a dull burning ache in his chest, not quite as sudden or obvious as his grandfather, but worse all the same.

It is the hottest day of the year, possibly, the hottest day in decades, and after several of the younger workers collapsed from heat stroke, everyone was begrudgingly allowed a small break. Armin was sitting under the relative shade of a tiny, half grown tree, nursing a waterskin, when he felt someone plop down beside him, and his shoulder grew heavy with the weight of Eren’s head. “I fucking hate this, Armin. All of this,” his friend said by way of greeting. Armin looked around instinctively, but there was no sign of the girl who had been practically attached to Eren’s hip for the past few years.

Armin only managed to squeak out a “hey,” in response, equal parts shocked at Eren approaching him and slightly unnerved by his language and his rough tone. He cleared his throat, corralling his thoughts into some semblance of calm order. “You know, we’ll be able to join the military next year. Things will get... better?” He offered. Eren shook his head against Armin’s shoulder. “Nah, things won’t get better, not really. Not until we drive those fucking filth from the world and free humanity!”

Despite himself, Armin grinned at the force of nature that was Eren Jäeger, the bright flame of passion untouched and bright as ever even through their plight.

He starts when he feels Eren’s head leave his shoulder, but relaxes once again when he sees that his friend isn’t abandoning him as he so irrationally feared, but is instead leaning over and gathering the tiny white flowers that are probably weeds into his lap. Eren’s face contorts from its usual expression of perpetual anger into one of fierce concentration as his fingers begin to work the stems. Armin has always been surprised at how very gentle Eren is capable of being. The very force of his emotions alone is probably enough to topple Wall Maria (and what a morbid joke _that_ is nowadays,) yet for all of his hurricane-like passion, Eren handles the flowers like he would a newborn kitten, fingers surprisingly nimble. Even when they were younger, and Armin had first showed Eren how to create the links of wildflowers in the field, he’d expected Eren to crush the flowers in his tiny fist and then get frustrated and storm off and probably hurt himself in the process because that’s just _Eren_ , but the brunet had so carefully handled the plants, and had grinned and yelled triumphantly when he succeeded in making a bright blue circle of flowers and placed it around Armin’s neck.

Armin was so caught up in the memories, and watching the methodical movements of Eren’s hands, that he almost jumped out of his skin when Eren reached up and placed his newly created flower crown on Armin’s head. Eren was smiling now, and _god_ was Eren’s smile beautiful when the tense furrow of his brow smoothed out and his eyes creased slightly at the corners, and Armin found himself returning the grin in full force. Suddenly, he felt soft lips grazing his nose, gone as soon as they had appeared.

He didn’t even care all that much when Eren grabbed his waterskin with a sly grin, draining it with a few short gulps.

The third time is after the Battle of Trost, and Maria above, awful doesn’t even begin to cover everything that happened. Armin’s poor, innocent heart has been pulled almost to the point of breaking completely. For the past few days, his thoughts had basically just been a rush of _Jesus fucking Christ Eren’s dead Eren is dead and it is your fault_ followed by _wait, Eren’s a titan? This was Grisha’s doing fuck Grisha but Eren’s alive **he’s alive**_ and the courtroom ordeal had basically just been his mind arguing about whether to keep Mikasa restrained and keep everyone calm because this is the infamous Lance Corporal Levi and he and Commander Smith have a plan and wanting to just let Mikasa loose on the midget and possibly try and throw a punch himself because he’s beating the shit out of Eren like he’s a fucking dog _who the fuck does he think he is_

and he’s been emotionally strained to the point that when Eren finally finds them at the Survey Corps headquarters he flings himself at his friend and begins to _sob_ into his shoulder. After a few moments he tenses and his about to become extremely embarrassed when he realized that Eren had flung his arms around Armin’s shoulders and was muffling his own quiet sobs into Armin’s cloak. Mikasa completes the trio, engulfing the two boys in a protective hug, her arms as comforting and strong as a parent or an older sibling. Armin only cries harder.

Later on, when everything calms down, Eren and Armin are sitting criss-cross just outside of the castle (apparently Levi’s surveillance is pretty lax, as he has basically established that the likelihood of Eren forming a concrete goal and inflicting self-harm is pretty low,) with a small patch of wildflowers between them. They are a vibrant red, and he tries not to let it remind him of blood, the blood of his squadmates, and instead focuses on the comforting movements of linking the flowers, focuses on how they are the same kind of wildflower as the ones in the field in Shiganshina that the two of them played in so, so long ago.

As soon as the sun dips below the horizon, they are interrupted with a gruff, “Would the flower children care to come inside and possibly, I don’t know, go the fuck to bed? You see, Jäeger, unless you’d like me to leave you at Hanji’s mercy again, I do actually have to lock you up, with or without your daisy chains.” Eren looks up sharply at Corporal Levi, who is wearing his usual glare and has a small key, presumably to Eren’s cell, dangling between two fingers. Though Armin looks down at his lap, blushing, Eren seems unfazed, replying with a sharp, “Yes sir, right away sir!” Eren stands and moves to follow his CO, but seemingly as an afterthought, turns back to Armin and kneels down, pressing his soft lips to Armin’s own. The kiss is chaste, innocent, but it leaves Armin with wide eyes and burning cheeks, staring distantly Eren, who has fallen into stride beside Levi. The Corporal calls flippantly over his shoulder, “You should probably get ready for bed, Arlert, I won’t have a fucking zombie walking around at training tomorrow.”

He mutters a quiet “yes, sir,” through the fingertips he has hovering over his lips.

The final time, they are almost eighteen and though they are some of the youngest soldiers in Survey, they haven’t been children for many years. The final battle was a blur, the last _three years_ have been a blur but one thought finally comes to light with shocking clarity.

_It’s over._

True, there were many, many casualties, and injuries. (He watched Commander Zöe’s assistant, Moblit, as he was crushed, and he’s told that the Commander herself lost a foot.) And yet, as he stands on the grassy cliff overlooking the camp, watching his friends, his _family_ hugging and sobbing and laughing because _we’re free,_ he knows that everything was worth it.

Eren somehow appears beside him, and his Survey cloak is in tatters and his face is smeared with drying blood, but Armin thinks he’s never looked more at peace. A serene smile is gracing his lips, and his teal eyes are brimming with tears as he gazes at some point on the horizon. “It’s over, Armin.” Eren’s voice is so quiet, so calm, Armin almost doesn’t even recognize it.

“Yeah, it is.” His own reply is barely more than a murmur.

Eren turns, abruptly, sits on the grass and starts to pick the little red flowers, pausing only to look up at Armin expectantly until the other boy sits beside him. He’s still mesmerised by the gentle motions of Eren’s hands, and as he weaves the stems together, Armin finds that they are again five, sitting in the field and laughing, eleven, grieving, fifteen and so angry and Eren smiles as he places the little crown on Armin’s head, like some kind of wreath of victory, and Armin smiles back because _it’s over._

**Author's Note:**

> Another prompt from Grace that i started and never really finished until now  
> she wanted the bois with flower crowns so hey


End file.
